


No Whispering from Below

by Amaethon



Category: BioShock 1 & 2 (Video Games)
Genre: Ambiguity, Body Worship, Comfort, F/F, Implied Sexual Content, Internal Monologue, Light Dom/sub, Mild Smut, Mother-Daughter Relationship, No Dialogue, Older Woman/Younger Woman, One Shot, POV First Person, Parent/Child Incest, Psychological Drama, Sexual Fantasy, Situational Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-23 00:59:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23003215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amaethon/pseuds/Amaethon
Summary: She felt everything, all at once. Everyone her father had saved and spared. All his kindness and compassion. But she also felt his adversity to overcome the crushing depth of the city she was born in. Conveying this complex carousel of her emotions would be challenging—if her mask could slip, and her love was cruel, was she no different to her mother? Regardless, Eleanor was more than ready to show her that...
Relationships: Eleanor Lamb & Sofia Lamb, Eleanor Lamb/Sofia Lamb
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	No Whispering from Below

**Author's Note:**

> A belated happy 10th anniversary to BioShock 2. Still the ultimate muse. Sorry this took so long, I had stuff going on and my drafts eventually got deleted. No worries though. I plan on releasing more short stories like this in between my big projects—I consider this to be an inverse of my first story I released awhile ago. I don't plan to stop writing this ship yet, especially as it seems no one else is. Whether you're here because you enjoy it, or see the pairing and click from sheer curiosity, and all criticism and ideas are welcome.

* * *

As if from nothing, I was faced with faces.

Touch was always a comforting feeling, whether it was from a friend or a family member. I had never had a real friend after my youth was stolen from me. But I had always had a mother—the one person I'm ashamed to admit even now I love deep down to the darkest depths of my heart. I stare out into the bright sun for the first time, surrounded by clouds that weave a tapestry of orange and reds. Even now I know I will always be her Utopian—a perfect creation that could not even be shaped in her own brilliant image.

Is that why I wanted this? Wanted her? I can see my mother starring—I always could. A look I could only perceive as impressed. No mother should look at their daughter that way, should they? Being close should hurt. Why do I like it so much? The attention, and from _her_ , the only person in my life that felt distant and cold at most times. Maybe she was hiding something intimate. Desire? To my mother; that is sympathy.

New knowledge and names echoed in my head, with one name that was already familiar to me—now even more so.

Sofia.

Sofia spoke my name in a low tone as she moved towards me, sitting on the edge of the craft, my hands gripped my knees a little tighter. The Little Sisters around me were gone—if they were ever really there. Her skin was still as bright as the sunlight, even past her makeup and despite so many years, we shared under the waves. Unlike mine.

Did she wear makeup for me? If not me, then who?

I felt the memories I never had. The intense pressure in Persephone, almost crushing had returned. Little bubbles from the harsh Atlantic Ocean rested on the rims around the dirty windows to mother's office. Where my mother stood on her tiptoes—her tongue curled lovingly around mine. With my slender arms wrapped like a present around her neck, these pale hands I could still feel clutching at Mother's dirty shirt collar. I could not help but to let out a low and guttural hum as Sofia let her restless, worked-in hands clutch tightly to my behind, squeezing it through the thin material of the diving suit.

Was I still here then, in the sun? Or did I accept her offer and abandon Father? No. I would never have done that.

But, as she pulled her mouth away from mine for air, I resisted and pushed myself closer to her. Sofia said my name again, talking after taking a deep breath and swallowing deep as if surfacing for air as she had just done. Because I had saved her, I remember that, moments ago.

I was looking down over her. Mother's knees must have been freezing pressed against the cold, hard metal of the lifeboat. Her legs were bent like mine were before, knees being grasped onto by her fidgeting hands that made her skirt stretch. All of this painted something on her face. The pride in her eyes mixed with embarrassment drawn on her features. She knew I could notice this.

In an instant, I was naturally hesitant. However, I thought missing these years of comfort would make me less so. A taboo feeling inside me cherished thought of contact, even feeling Mother's headrest on me played my nerves like a musical instrument. With the life in me, I was no longer confused, no longer needing guidance.

Mother moved her head, planting a kiss on my thigh light enough not to leave stains from her lipstick, slowly kissing this wet suit. Though the material was so thin it felt as though she was kissing my skin almost lovingly.

My wet suit had dried from however long I had been standing there— with no waves to rock us. I let out a shallow breath at these new experiences and ideas in my mind. Any thought of being close to someone I had admired for so long once was enough to make me shake and tingle.

However, it could have just been the sea air.

I told Mother that if she were so ashamed to hide her face. She cooed as she moved her hands to my other thighs, her nails digging into me. I swallowed harshly, thinking my options, through loving the ones my mother posed.

Cooing was my reply—something I had never done before. I reached my left hand behind her head, gently beginning to stroke and play with mother's blonde locks and even push the older woman even lower beneath me. I moved it to grace my slender thumb to lovingly stroke her right temple. Then I told her to relax.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> This was set during the Good Ending as I like the idea of Eleanor being a bit wicked behind the mask of her new found humanity and freedom. If you got this far, and the continuity wasn't confusing, thanks for reading, I appreciate it. I was thinking of setting up some-kind-of blog or Tumblr for this ship and my work, maybe just BioShock 2. There seems to be an audience for this on here, far more than I expected. It might help me compile my thoughts better and do other stuff on here. Would anyone be interested? Let me know.


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